The Nightmare
by skinnyrita
Summary: This fic was written in 2005, found today after four years! Harry/Ron, PWP, war-era, basically does what it says on the tin- Harry has a nightmare and Ron comforts him. Gave me a sense of nostaligia so I thought I'd post it!


_This morning I found a fanfic_ **I wrote wayyyy back in March 2005**_, four long years gone by and I think you can tell by the less polished writing style how much has changed since! However, I was really glad to find it again, I wrote it for another writer called Velven back then and secretly quite liked it. I have edited it for grammar and spelling but not for anything else. It's _random_, a bit _PWP_ and_ sort of sweet_, so let's see how we do with the reviews!! Re-reading it it's monstrously politically incorrect in so many ways… ah. Youth._

_Disclaimer – Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were woken up, made to act out fanfic PWP-ness, and then JK recovered them from my clutches and sent them back to bed._

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**The Nightmare**

_By a much younger skinnyrita_

"Ron?"

"Nug."

"RON?"

"Nugga? Urgh.. Harry it's...three am! Circe, what the bloody Hell is it? I am not going all the way down to get hot chocolate with you AGAIN just because you're scared of the elf-heads."

It was dark in the little double-bedded room in 12 Grimmauld place. Ron, who had been having this most beautiful dream ever where he was all alone at a Hogwarts Halloween feast, and so finally had free rein of the chicken legs, had just been rudely awoken by his best friend, who on closer inspection looked pale and kinda... traumatized. Ron sat up groggily and stared up at Harry, who was hovering at the edge of the bed. He looked white.

"What is it?"

Images flashed through Harry's mind. Images of blood and screams and mutilated flesh sped through Harry's mind and he took a rapid intake of breath. "I -I can't... Ron, I need to forget."

Ron swallowed and sat up fully so that they were facing each other. There was something funny about the way Harry was looking at him. "Do you mean-?" He couldn't possibly.

He did. Harry leaned forward and gently initiated a kiss. It was over quickly. Ron broke it. "Harry, I'm not sure I can."

"But you're queer, Ron, I need something."

"I'm, not sure I can give you that. I'd be... taking advantage," said Ron, uncomfortable, going pink to the tips of his ears.

Harry bent his head to the redhead's neck and blew a hot breath up to his ear.

"Please."

Ron jerked his head back and it hit the headboard. "You're not even gay."

A frightened expression flitted over Harry's face. Ron was right. But there was no one else. And he knew what kind of release he needed right now. "I know. But I really... NEED it right now."

Ron took a torturous moment to ponder Harry's offer. He wouldn't deny to himself that he found his friend vaguely attractive... that he hadn't always wondered what that sculpted quidditch chest would feel like... what kind of noises. Light brown eyelashes lifted. Lips uttered one word: "Okay."

Ron slowly and gently pushed Harry back so that they were wrong-way-up on the single bed, Ron on top. He could feel the black-haired boy shaking. Ron groaned inside: this was going to be pointless. Harry was scared of him. He leaned down towards him. Harry tensed. Ron landed the gentlest kiss possible on the side of his neck. "It's alright," he said, kindly, "if you want me to stop, at ANY point, you know that I will."

"I've, I've never... not with another guy. I, I don't know what to-" said Harry, tersely, hissing abruptly as Ron licked the hollow of his neck and then blew on it. He didn't realise that the redhead had opened his pyjama top until a quick lick was administered to his left nipple. "R-Ron," said Harry, grabbing his friend's shoulders. Ron looked up.

"Want me to stop?"

"Will you kiss me?"

Ron hesitated. Things were a lot more personal when you were kissing someone. Not that this wasn't already personal enough. But kissing, he had found, was a commitment. He licked his lips unconsciously, feeling uncertain. He wanted to kiss Harry, but he didn't. It would be a lot easier to think on this as just medicine, rather than something sexual, if he weren't kissing Harry. However: he might never get another chance...

The kiss started as gentle. First you make sure you really want to go through with it. Then you initiate tongues. Then the fun really begins. It wasn't long before Ron felt himself coming undone. First he felt Harry's hands in his hair. Harry wasn't going to be shy about kissing. Maybe he had asked for it to get himself back on some home territory. It wasn't until Ron felt his pyjama top coming undone that he was suddenly jerked back into the reality that this was HARRY.

His _friend_ Harry.

Ron broke the kiss and searched the green eyes. He found approval, but also lingering doubt. He dropped his head and offered another soft kiss on the cheek before raising himself up and ridding himself of the rest of the top. He took a moment to look down on Harry, looking up at him, watching him straddle his hips in the darkness; a pale form spattered with light brown freckles. Harry still looked nervous, but less so. And he hadn't asked him to stop.

"R-Ron."

"Just say the word."

"I- I don't know what to do. I'm sorry. You must hate me."

Ron offered a lopsided smile. 'You're kidding right' he thought, 'you're letting me live out a very prohibited fantasy here. Though of course, usually in my fantasy you've decided you're also at least slightly queer. I don't know how not to freak you out.' but he said: "I'll never hate you. Just relax. Relax..." he bent down again and began kissing and stroking his way slowly down that torso again. Only this time it felt better, easier, with Harry's hands running in delicious circles over his back and hair. When he reached lower than the navel, he glanced up again. Harry looked like he was holding his breath.

"I-I'm sorry, it was unfair. I should never have asked you to do it. You can stop. Ron, I'm so sorry."

Ron felt a wave of sympathy and edged back up so that they were face to face again.

"Is that you asking me to stop?" he asked, gently. Harry's throat was dry. He swallowed. Ron trailed a line with his index finger along the line of harry's pyjama bottoms. "If I had minded doing it, Harry, I wouldn't have agreed to start with. Do you WANT me to stop?"

The finger trailed slightly lower. Harry shook his head fervently. Ron reached down and started to touch him. Harry gasped. "You'll have to tell me what you like," said Ron softly, his cheek against Harry's burning face. "Everyone's different." But Harry seemed incapable of speech. His breathing was becoming laboured. Ron decided to play it by ear.

Apart from heavy breathing, and some scattered 'Oh god's' and the occasional 'Ron... Ron...' Harry was largely silent when in the throes of orgasm. His eyes were shut in ecstasy. He could hear Ron's own breathing.

Ron's face was burning. He'd never imagined Harry looking like this, not even in his darkest, most hidden fantasies. He could feel himself getting hard but wasn't about to ask his friend to do anything about it. It would just have to be ignored. If Harry didn't come soon, he thought maybe he would instead. His heart felt like it was being crushed, slowly. Luckily, it would all soon be over. He knew Harry was about to come...

"Stop."

Ron's eyes snapped open at the same time as Harry's. "You want me to stop NOW?" asked Ron, aghast. He couldn't help himself: "what are you, some kind of sadist? You were right on the edge."

Harry rolled them over gently so that he was on top, careful not to let them fall off the narrow bed. Ron stared up at him. "Are you - you're -OH MY GOOD GOD." he felt Harry start stroking him.

"You were so bloody hard," said Harry, looking a lot less nervous, "that it wouldn't have been fair."

"Oh shit, oh... God...nugghhh.... " Contrary to Harry, Ron was rather vocal. He mustered enough brainpower to reach for the job 'in hand' (ho ho) again. Their faces were inches apart, eyes locked, breathing the same breath.

Harry came first. Ron soon after. He felt like it was release after a very painful torture.

Harry collapsed on top of him and planted a vague kiss on his sweaty neck. They did not attempt to hold each other because their limbs felt too heavy to manage it.

"That was ... incredible," said Harry, finally.

"You were fucking amazing," breathed Ron, " gods I wish you were gay."

He felt Harry's body go rigid.

"Sorry. It's alright Harry, I know this was a one-off. But you know... if you ever have another nightmare..."

Harry sat up. "The nightmare," he whispered.

"What was it?"

Harry thought hard about it, then turned and looked down on Ron's still flushed face. "I don't remember."

"Damn," said Ron suddenly, frowning, "you've got rid of mine too and mine was a good one! But you know," he said huskily, trailing a finger down Harry's side, "I'll never forget what YOU look like... covered in spunk..." he chuckled at Harry's dubious face. "It's all right mate. It's alright."

**The End.**

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hahaha okay so I posted it for laughs, can't believe I found this after all this time, but I hope you thought it was sweet anyway - must've been written before I became all 'serious' about plots, etc! Drop me a **_review_** and let me know what you thought.

love skinnyrita


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